New Year Mistletoe
by ellylilly-pcmh
Summary: And that's why Richard and Isobel have to thank the nurse that hang the mistletoe in the hospital corridor - nothing serious, one shot, based on the euphoric effect that Christmas causes me.


**- Except for the first part, the story is set on January 1, 1920 -**

_**- I know I should update the other fanfic and I hope to do so as soon as possible. In the meantime, happy reading -**_

"Dr Clarkson, you're under the mistletoe!"

He looked up from the pile of cards he was controlling with Mrs Crawley and looked at the ceiling. In the middle of the hallway, hanging from the ceiling, right above them hung a small bunch of mistletoe.

He looked down at her with a half smile on his lips, "Mrs Crawley?"

"Of course we can not break the tradition, right?", a small smile also drew on her lips, "It would bring bad luck. And God knows we do not want other misfortunes, Doctor."

"You're right."

He put a hand on her arm, squeezing it slightly, and leaned toward her, aware both of the amused gaze of the nurse and Isobel Crawley's hand slightly resting on his chest, the package of documents between their bodies.

Richard kissed her cheek gently, trying to ignore both the softness of the scented skin under his lips and the sudden, sharp intake of breath that she took when his lips touched her cheek, as well as the quiet tremor than shook her shoulders.

Isobel gasped. She knew he was about to kiss, but it still caught her by surprise, more than she liked to admit. His breath was warm against the suddenly sensible skin of her face, and his moustache tickled pleasantly her cheek, sending a shiver down her spine. Instinctively, she put a hand on his chest and her fingers lightly grasped his shirt as a reflex. When he pulled away from her, looking at her with a sincere smile, Isobel was sure she was blushing hard.

"My best wishes, Mrs. Crawley."

"To you too, doctor."

...**...**

"Happy New Year, Mrs. Crawley!"

Isobel turned with a smile at the sound of his voice, happy to have found someone to exchange a few words, glad it was him. She stopped in the middle of the narrow path that from the church door led through the cemetery and from there to the main street of Downton, waiting for him to reach her.

"I thought you were up at the Abbey."

"Happy New Year, doctor," she smiled, "I did not stay the night. Shortly after midnight I got back home," she shrugged, "I stayed just long enough to celebrate the New Year," he smiled slightly, "I do not like that kind of party."

He smiled back and motioned for her to precede him down the path in gravel.

"What about you?"

"Well, I spent the night at the Grantham Arms with a couple of acquaintances, waited for the New Year, cheered with the other presents and then went back home. And this morning I came here," he pointed to the church behind them with his umbrella, "For the first function of the year."

"That's quite sad, Doctor."

"Yes, not very happy, I agree. But I am quite used to it, you know, not having a family,"

She smiled sadly, but before she could ask why, which certainly she would have done, he had never married, why he did not have a wife - when he wanted to get married to a certain woman for eight years-, he interrupted her, gently taking her elbow and helped her get over a particularly large puddle.

"I never thought to see you here this morning, anyway. Isn't it too soon? It is a day of celebration, and I am sure that the Crawley family will go to the afternoon function."

"That's true, but... I wanted to be a little alone."

Feeling suddenly an intruder, he touched the brim of his hat and made a slight bow, as if to apologise, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Crawley. I did not want to be nosy."

"Do not be silly, Doctor. I meant alone without the family. Sometimes they tend to be a bit... a bit..." she chewed her lip, looking for the correct word, "How to say..."

"Pushy?" he saw her dark eyes gleamed with fun, and tried again, "Heavy?"

"In a sense, yes. Go to function with them is almost like going on stage at the theatre, you always have to be perfect. I preferred to enjoy the function alone. And then... well, I meant to come to the hospital to see how things are going on. You know, Matthew remained at the Abbey."

"We have no patients, Mrs. Crawley, you know. They were not seriously ill and we had them sent home for the holidays to be with their families. At the hospital, there's just me and the nurse on duty during the holiday season."

"I know, I know, but I want to fix the documents that I did not had time to finish before the holidays," she blushed just remembering that those same documents were the same documents crushed between their bodies when he gently kissed her under the mistletoe few days before. She bit her lip and shook her head, hoping not to be noticed.

"Surely nothing too important, Mrs. Crawley."

"No, but it makes me feel good to do something, you should know better by now," she looked up and smiled, "As long as it is not a problem for you."

"Absolutely not," gallantly, he opened the gate of the hospital and let her through, trying to ignore the delicate scent of lavender that had just passed under his nose, "It's always a pleasure to have you in the hospital."

She looked very surprised, flattered perhaps, and she blushed, "You're a good nurse, and your help is precious," he thought he saw a flash of disappointment in her dark eyes and he corrected his words quickly, "But I'm happy to have someone to talk to. Especially if it is you."

This time Isobel gave him a beaming smile as he also opened the door of the hospital, "I can say the same thing."

"Good!" it was a relief to hear her say those words, and he released the breath he had not realised he was holding, "The nurse on duty must be somewhere, do you want some tea? Something to eat?"

"A tea would be the wonderful, but do not trouble too much, I can prepare it by myself."

She rushed past him down the corridor through their office, slightly waving a hand in the air, and he followed, accelerating the pace to reach out and help, both of them without even taking off their winter coats, gloves or hats.

She stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway and he ran into her small figure, making her wobble dangerously. Richard leaned forward, putting his hands instinctively around her waist to keep her from falling, and felt her stiffen at his touch and he just retired, hoping not to have offended her, "What is it?"

"Oh, dear God, I forgot my scarf at the church. It is a gift from Matthew! "

"We can go look for it right now, if we hurry. The sexton'll be cleaning the church by now, surely he will find it. Come on," he said and headed for the door, but he noticed that she had not not follow him and went back to look at her, worried, "Mrs Crawley? "

He did not met her dark eyes, but found himself staring at her throat, soft and delicate skin a few inches from him, terribly kissable. He tried not to think about it, and called her again, tentatively, "Isobel?"

"Mistletoe."

"I beg your pardon?"

"We're under the mistletoe," she seemed to blush just in the soft light of noon through the window, "Again."

He suddenly went very quiet, aware of the situation they were in, "You're right."

Isobel looked at him straight in the eye and he tried desperately to ignore the timid tone in her voice, "We do not want to break the tradition, right?"

They were practically alone in the hospital - at least in that moment, in that corridor, for sure.

Isobel Crawley, the woman he had admired and loved for the past eight years, the only person who he can associate with the image of his wife, was standing in front of him, their bodies barely touching, asking him to fulfil the mistletoe tradition, with such a shy smile that only made him desire her even more.

"A good-luck kiss, Mrs Crawley?" he asked, his voice hoarse, and he was ashamed of himself.

"Yes, doctor," she smiled, "To fulfil the tradition."

Something snapped inside him, set him in his actions, now or never. He gently put again both of his hand on her waist, lightly caressing the soft, red fabric of her winter-coat, drawing her against his chest, and bent on her, barely brushing his lips against hers. His lips lightly clenched her lower one for a brief moment, and then he withdrew slowly, watching her intently.

She blinked twice in surprise. Then she was the one that started their second kiss, going on her tiptoes, resting her hands on his chest, leaning on him, touching timidly his mouth with hers. She stood there just long enough to make him miss her when she went down from her tiptoes, drawing away her eyes from his face and looking down shyly.

He went in search of her lips again, kissing her for the third time, taking away the breath that she had just taken with some difficulties due.

Isobel gasped in surprise, one hand firmly hold on to his arm, the other suspended in the air, her fingers slightly bent in a fist. Then that same hand went to rest on his neck, pulling him close to her chest, making him feel the laboured breaths she was taking.

Richard felt her soft lips gently open under his and he bit lightly into her lower lip before slipping his tongue inside her warmth mouth, caressing it sweetly. She tasted of sweet, and the scent of lavender that he now associated to her was intoxicating and delicious.

He felt her soft body pressing against his one forcefully, her hands clinging to his shoulder and neck, and understood that she was struggling to stand, as if her knees had suddenly lost strength.

He withdrew from her mouth to take breath, and he started to nuzzle her jaw and neck, kissing her lightly.

"Richard," she murmured with difficulty his name, her fingers absently playing with his hair, "Richard, another."

He fulfilled happily her request, leaving her neck to go back to her lips. He caressed her back gently, making her arch against him, and he sensed both of their hats finally falling to the ground when he kissed her again forcefully. His hands trailed along her body, while hers were busied in his hair and shoulder, keeping him firmly against her, as she was afraid to lose him.

And then he forgot everything except the fact that he was finally kissing the woman he loved. He forgot the fact that they were in the middle of the hallway, the fact that what they were doing was highly improper, the fact that everyone who enter the corridor or watch through the window from the street could see them.

"Oh, finally…" he felt her small hands clutching at his shoulder forcefully, as she held back a happy choke, "Finally…"

"I love you so much, my dear," he whispered in her hear, sending shivers down her spine, "I love you so terribly much. I've done it for eight years, and I'll do it forever."

"We should have done this before, you know," she murmured smiling and softly trailing her long fingers down his face to cover his lips, "So much before..."

"What, kissing under the mistletoe?" he joked, looking at her with an amused smile, "We have done it for eight years now, but I like we have choose a very alternative way to do it this year."

Isobel let out a small, blissful laugh before looking up at him, suddenly serious, "No, telling that we love each another," she spoke in such a shy voice that almost made her heart broke with joy, "Because we do, don't we?"

"Of course we do. You're the most beautiful thing that has ever happened in my life, Isobel. The most beautiful, the most perfect, the most important."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm so happy when you're with me to the hospital. You make me so happy, Isobel."

"And you make me happy. I'm just sorry it took me eight years to figure it out ..."

"Never mind," he kissed her gently on the forehead and felt her hiding her face against his neck, hugging him tightly. Richard closed his eyes and smiled, stopping the tears of joy that he felt tug at his eyes. Then he bent to the floor to take their hats, "As much as I like the idea, we can not stay here forever. Let's go back to the church to look for your scarf, my dear."

"My scarf!" she exclaimed, looking at him with big eyes, "I forgot about it!"

"That can only make me proud about my kisses and - ouch, Isobel!" he complained when she poked him on the ribs with her elbow, "I was joking!"

"You better, you silly man," she kissed him lightly while fussing with his collar and scarf, "Come on. If we hurry we can go to eat. Mrs Bird has returned to Manchester to her sister for the holidays, but I'm sure to be able to make you something good to eat, even if not too complicated."

"You want me to eat with you? At your house?"

"Of course, Richard"

"Are not you going to have lunch at the Abbey?"

"No, I will return for dinner, I can not avoid it," she smiled and opened the door of the hospital, only to stop so quickly that he went to slam against her a second time in half an hour, "Matthew! What a lovely surprise! What are you doing here, my darling boy?"

They were staring at her son's back and he turned toward them so quickly that Richard feared that he will stumble to the ground. Matthew looked at both of them with his mouth slightly open and blinking stupidly.

"I-I… I was looking for you and… and… and…" only then he seemed to notice Richard's presence and held out his hand, just to withdraw it when he understood that it was to formal, "Oh, God, I'm sorry, good morning Doctor Clarkson…"

Richard tried very hard not to laugh at the poor chap's expression, managing a polite smile, "Good morning, Mr Crawley."

"Matthew, are you alright?" asked Isobel, concerned.

"Yes! Yes, what was I saying, I was looking for you, and I went to Crawley House, but you weren't there and Molesley told me that you wanted to go to the church, so I went there, but Travis told me that you left with the Doctor at the end of the function, and so I came here and… and… and…" he trailed off, looking from one to the other, blushing furiously, "Your scarf, Mother. You forgot it at the church."

"How sweet for you, my boy, we were going to the church to look for it!" Isobel beamed at her son, smiling happily, but her smile died on her lips when she saw his expression, "Are you sure you are alright?"

"Of course! Maybe I've drank a little bit yesterday evening and now I'm still put off," he laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair, "But I'm alright, yes, alright."

His mother looked at him worried, "We were going to have lunch, would you like to join us?"

"Oh, for goodness sake, Mother, no!" he blurted out in horror, only to feel guilty when he saw his mother's hurt expression and the doctor's amused one, "I mean, I'd really like to, but they're waiting me up at the Abbey," he glanced towards the doctor, blushing even more, deeply uncomfortable, "Will you see at dinner, or will you be busied?"

"Busied? Why should I be busied at night?"

It was Richard's turn to blush furiously, turning red in the face as Matthew, but luckily Isobel could not see him.

"I do not know, Mother," Matthew exhaled with a too high voice, nervous, "I have to go back now. I will see you at dinner, then, how nice."

"Of course, my dear boy," she accepted with a smile his kiss on the cheek and patted gently on his arm, "See you later then."

Both of them looked the young man going away quickly. Matthew's pace was fast, as if he wanted to give away from there as soon as possible, and every now and then he turned to throw them a furtive glance. It was a relief when he turned the corner and disappeared from their sight.

"He behaved in a very strange way, don't you think, Richard?"

He laughed at Isobel's words, "My love, he was incredibly embarrassed. I'm afraid he will not be able to see us together without dying of embarrassment, even while we are working at the hospital."

Isobel looked at him and widened her deep, chocolate-brown eyes in surprise, "But why?"

"Because," he took her hand and kissed it gently, while caressing her back with the other hand "I think your intelligent son has seen us through the window."

**- Bye, guys! -**


End file.
